Suiting Up
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: "Barry hadn't thought about it at first, not when he'd tried the original on to go chase down Mardon and not when he'd just as easily donned the second of Cisco's set after the first had been blown up. 'The suits. How come they all fit me'" Just some somewhat silly speculation. Set post 1x05 but not super spoiler-y.


**So this was kind of just a random thought I had about a small detail that is otherwise overlooked most of the time in the typical superhero setup. But those are the kind of questions that rattle around in my brain, as some of you guys might know. Regardless, just something kind of fun despite last week's episode just being sad. Consider it one of those behind-the-scenes things that could've maybe happened. Maybe. Enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Suiting Up**

"Why do they fit?"

Caitlin looked up briefly from her computer screen and Cisco faltered, the Ping-Pong ball smacking him square in the forehead as a result. "Ow! What are you talking about dude?"

They'd all been spending a lot more time at S.T.A.R. labs after everything with Eiling, perhaps pulling together in the wake of shared tragedy. Dr. Wells had suggested they make use of the time by continuing Barry's practice with multi-tasking, and maybe this conversation would count. But mostly, the curiosity had finally gotten the better of him.

So Barry elaborated, "The suits. How come they all fit me?"

Barry hadn't thought about it at first, not when he'd tried the original on to go chase down Mardon and not when he'd just as easily donned the second of Cisco's set after the first had been blown up. But with Bette gone, and Iris placed out of reach, he'd had a lot of time to let his mind wander. And that wandering had finally resulted in a thought that was perhaps long overdue.

"The Flash suits, you mean?" Cisco checked, looking somewhat bemused. "It's not a problem, is it?"

"No," Barry shook his head. "But don't those kind of things usually have to be tailored? I mean, we hadn't even met before you'd finished them, and you said you designed them for firemen to use."

"Yeah, but they were prototypes. Nobody actually commissioned them or anything," his friend replied, and wouldn't quite meet his eyes for some reason. Cisco finally sent the ball back, but Barry caught it, not ready to let this go just yet.

"Then how'd you decide on measurements, and ones that weirdly exactly fit me?"

"You kind of have to tell him at this point," Caitlin finally spoke up, spinning her chair around to face them.

"No I don't," Cisco practically sing-songed back.

"Or I can," she offered.

"No, wait—"

"What is it?" Barry finally cut in, having gotten tired of looking back and forth between the two like the Ping-Pong he still held in his hand. He couldn't help sounding a bit guarded.

"It's nothing bad!" The engineer turned back to reassure.

"It's just Cisco," Caitlin said by way of explanation.

"Hey, you helped!"

"Hardly!"

"Then could you just tell me?" He managed on a laugh at their usual antics. The exasperation was still there, though, and at last Caitlin was the one who relented with a sigh.

"Barry…you were the measurements."

"Wait, what?" He definitely did not remember that.

But Cisco, who was now looking distinctly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, prompted, "Dude, the coma?"

_Seven Months Ago_

Caitlin Snow looked up in the middle of readjusting the various monitors attached to Barry Allen—for lack of anything better to do, really—to watch Cisco Ramon come practically skipping into the lab with a couple boxes under each arm.

"They're here!" He announced when she didn't ask. She supposed she should be thankful for the other man who kept trying to draw her into conversation. They were the only two left, the only two who'd stayed by Dr. Wells' side after the tragedy that had been the downfall of everything they'd worked for—and everything she'd cherished.

So, forcing a tight smile briefly to her face, she dutifully inquired, "What's here?"

"The materials I need to make those firefighter suits I was telling you about. Soon as I have those done we can talk to the station chiefs and before you know it S.T.A.R. labs is going to be back on the map as the institute that helps advance things."

"Great." It was all she could say; Cisco's endless hope and energy simply hurt to witness sometimes. Even if they somehow salvaged the lab's reputation, it could never fix everything. But she walked over to watch as he opened each box and laid out the materials. They were all very red. He'd bought them in yards and started unrolling one over an empty table. "You know how to sew?" Caitlin felt some inklings of interest upon learning this about the normally goofy young man.

"Yeah, learned it when I was a kid. It'll come in handy now," he looked back at her with another typical grin. Why was it so easy for him?

She felt her lips twitch, but backed up a few steps. "Well I hope one of those boxes has a mannequin, otherwise it's going to take you quite a while and a lot of guesswork." When that grin of his at last slipped upon her pointing out the flaw in his plan, she didn't feel any sort of vindictive pleasure. She just felt cold and empty as usual. "Excuse me." Caitlin retreated fully to the S.T.A.R. labs kitchen, needing a minute.

She started a pot of coffee, more to excuse her trip here than anything else. When it finished, however, she decided to pour two cups as something of an apology. Sure, she'd been right, but it wasn't like they weren't discouraged enough without her pessimism. Maybe if he was especially upset she could offer to hold the tape measure for him. It wasn't as if her solitary patient was requiring much of her attention at the moment.

But she almost dropped the two steaming coffee cups upon returning to find that said patient had nearly all of Cisco's attention, as the engineer seemed to be in the process of measuring from Barry Allen's wrist to his shoulder.

"Cisco!" She didn't think it was so much a shriek as a sharp exclamation, but regardless the man jumped, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "What are you doing?"

"Well, it's like you said, I don't have a mannequin or anything. And I can't just guess on this, it has to be perfect, for the lab and Dr. Wells. So then I thought, it's not like it'd _bother_ him, he's just lying there. He'll never have to know!" By the end, he seemed to have regained some of his usual confidence, for he gave a satisfied nod at his own cleverness.

"He's in a coma!" Caitlin snapped, not impressed. "It doesn't matter if it won't bother him, you could do some damage."

Cisco merely rolled his eyes. "You said he was stable. Is me holding a tape measure up to him really going to do anything? Please, Caitlin," he pleaded with wide eyes, and it looked like he might get down on his knees if pushed, "I already made a couple cuts in the material and this is the best way I can make these suits."

It really showed how low she sunk in life that she was even participating in a conversation like this, much less considering it. "You just need to make measurements?"

He nodded. "Yep. Please, Caitlin, please let me borrow your patient for like fifteen minutes as a mannequin."

She held out for another minute under his earnest gaze. Oh really, what was the harm? "This is so dehumanizing," she grumbled, setting down the coffee cups and walking over to the prone form of her comatose patient turned tailor's dummy. "I'm supervising."

"Great!" Cisco wasted no further time, returning to measuring the length of the unconscious young man's arm. He went to scribble the number down in a notebook, then came back around to the other side to do the other arm, then from shoulder to shoulder. When he came back from writing down those, however, he paused. "I need to do around his waist. And then his hips."

Caitlin's gaze darted from the undisturbed form below her to the engineer. "You're kidding."

Cisco shook his head. "Nope. Think maybe you could kind of lift him for me? Or I could do it and you can measure."

"No, no, I have to make sure nothing goes wrong," she argued despite wanting to take the second option. She'd really, really rather take the second option. But Caitlin was nothing if not committed and so she took a breath and then slipped an arm between the body and cot with her other hand brushing the shoulder on the far side from her as she braced it against the cot. In that way she was able to slowly and carefully leverage his body upward but ended up pressed almost flush against the bare torso of a man she'd never met awake.

Caitlin closed her eyes, counted to ten, and tried to ignore the way Barry Allen's fringe brushed the underside of her jaw as she breathed evenly in and out. "This was so not the easiest way to do this."

"It was," Cisco insisted, and she opened her eyes briefly to see him looping the tape measure around the man's waistline. She wondered idly what might be the reaction if this were the moment he chose to wake up as Dr. Wells seemed convinced he would, and then hoped dearly he chose to put it off for some other day. "It's not my fault he's ridiculously built for doing nothing but sleeping all the time," the engineer was saying in the moment.

"Just one of the things that makes his case so important for us to study," she quoted one of Dr. Wells' remarks to her at him, and at last gladly lowered the still unresponsive man in her arms back to the cot as the measurements were done being taken. "Anything else?"

"The circumference of his head," he told her and she gave another put upon sigh, but moved to brace the back of his head and neck as she lifted it.

Staring at the practically expressionless face she truly had to ask herself what the huge fuss was over one patient, even with an accelerated heart rate and impressive cellular regeneration. There was only so much they could do with him continuing to be comatose and Dr. Wells refusing to announce their discoveries. What if Barry Allen simply refused to wake up? On the other hand, if he did, what would she have to do then? He'd become something of a constant in what she had to call a life now, after all, but once awake couldn't be expected to stay.

"Ok, that's everything. I got the rest while you were making coffee," Cisco said, scribbling down the last measurements. "Thanks, by the way."

"No problem." She slowly lowered the other man's head back to lay against the pillow.

"And Caitlin?" She looked over at him, waiting for him to continue. "Can we maybe keep this to ourselves? I mean, I won't tell and I know _he_ won't." Cisco gestured to Barry Allen, condition unchanged as ever, and grinned again.

And something of a smile actually tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Sure Cisco."

_Present Day_

Barry stared at them both, not quite believing it. "You can't be serious."

But Cisco shrugged. "Why do you think I didn't want to talk about it, dude?"

"Well yeah, but—" he struggled to come up with the words for what he was taking issue with. "You just—while I was…really?" At their lack of response he gave up the idea that they might have been joking and ran both hands through his hair, coming together to rest at the back of his neck. "Why are there never any simple answers to questions anymore?"

"You are the one who asked," Caitlin pointed out, which didn't seem very helpful to Barry at the moment. "And you're the one using the suits now, so it actually worked out pretty well for all of us."

"Yeah, we were just saving you time," Cisco added. "Getting things done faster than even _you_ can notice? Now that's pretty awesome."

"Dude." Barry said flatly. When his friend kept grinning unabashedly he simply whacked the Ping-Pong ball with a little more speed than usual in his direction.

"_Ow_!"

Caitlin snickered behind her hand and Barry shook his head with a chuckle. Cisco, after rubbing his forehead for a moment, gave another sheepish shrug before joining in the laughter.

**And that's why Barry's Flash suits fit him perfectly with no adjustments necessary. Or maybe not. You decide! Thanks for reading this silly little idea and please review!**


End file.
